


Wanting Out

by knowyourincantations



Series: Sapphic September 2018 [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, F/F, Handler Hermione Granger, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Sapphic September, Sapphic September 2018, Spies & Secret Agents, Spy Pansy Parkinson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 20:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15956921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knowyourincantations/pseuds/knowyourincantations
Summary: Pansy is a spy for the order and Hermione is her handler.





	Wanting Out

**Author's Note:**

> For Sapphic September Day 11 - **Spy!AU** or ~~Kryptonite~~

Hermione reheated her tea for the third time. For the third time, she didn’t drink any. She held the cup, she brought it to her lips, but each time, she put it down again. Her stomach was twisting and turning, she couldn’t be sure she’d keep down even a sip of tea.

The clock above the mantel chimed out another hour. Hermione counted the chimes. By the end, she’d already lost track, stopped counting.

She picked up the teacup again. She wasn’t cut out for this. She _hated_ this.

There were still two hours remaining within the reporting window There was book open on the coffee table next to the tea things, but she couldn’t focus for more than half a sentence. Ron and Harry teased her plenty for never being put off from reading. She hadn’t told them about this.

They all assumed she spent the three hours reading. In truth, she spent it staring at the clock, pacing the worn carpet, biting her nails. Reheating tea she wouldn’t drink. Revising healing spells in her mind only to lose the thread of her thoughts as they spiralled down into horrific imagery.

The clock chimed out another fifteen minutes, then thirty, then forty-five.

She was staring at it, waiting for the next hour to sound out, when the floo finally flared to life. She hurried to her feet, snatching up her wand and settling into a defensive stance. Her mind calmed, her focus narrowed.

A figure stumbled through the floo, and Hermione barked out the security question.

“You better have left me a fucking cuppa, Granger,” Pansy groaned, not even looking at her as she crossed the room to the coffee table, sitting heavily in one of the armchairs.

“Can you answer the damn question for once?” Hermione hissed, lowering her wand anyway.

Pansy touched the side of the teapot and scowled. Hermione flinched when she drew her wand to heat it, but relaxed again.

“Rabbit teeth,” Pansy muttered, pouring herself a cup of tea and then sinking back into the armchair with it.

Hermione stowed her wand and took the other armchair, looking her over. “You’re late.”

Pansy ignored her, sipping her cup of tea with her eyes closed. Hermione reheated her own cup, but didn’t pick it up. There were no visible injuries, not body language to suggest she was hiding any, and the part of her mind that was reviewing healing spells and conjuring dark imagery fell silent. For now.

“The reporting window is three hours long,” Pansy finally muttered. “I’m only late if I show up and you aren’t here.”

She was correct, but Hermione just huffed and looked away. She wasn’t cut out for this. They should have assigned someone else.

“Do you have anything to report?” she asked curtly.

“Let me catch my breath,” Pansy complained. “Do you know how hard it is to find a floo connection that isn’t monitored?”

Hermione bit her lip and forced herself not to respond. She knew all too well how risky it was for spies to use the floo to get to safe houses for reports. She’d made several complaints about it already, but Apparition was just as risky, maybe more so for the tell-tale sound it made and the new discovery that it left after-trails. Meeting anywhere near the spies’ locations was suicide.

“There’s to be another attack tomorrow. A big one,” Pansy finally said, her eyes still closed. “I only caught a few details. They’re going after the Longbottoms. They think Potter is hiding there.”

The blood in Hermione’s veins turned to ice. “When is the attack?”

They were using Neville’s home as a makeshift hospital, all carefully concealed so it still looked like only he and his gran were there. Neville had hated pretending to be neutral so the house was available. His gran even more so.

“I don’t know, I’m not invited to meetings, remember?” Pansy snapped, her eyes flying open. She fixed Hermione with a glare. “If I get too close I’ll get caught. I know you don’t care, but I’d like to make it out of this alive!”

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. All her dark imaginings came rushing to the forefront of her mind.

“Don’t say that. I care. You know I do. I have to ask these questions.”

Pansy deflated, putting her teacup down on the coffee table and covering her face with her hands. “I can’t do this anymore,” she said, her voice hitching on a sob. “I can’t shake the feeling they know. They were talking about it near me to try and set me up. I’m sure of it. Granger...Hermione, I need to get out. You need to get me out.”

The dark imagery only worsened, until Hermione wished she could obliviate herself. “I’m trying,” she said. “But you know I don’t decide these things. I’m just your handler.”

Pansy stood abruptly, swiping under her eyes. “That’s all I know. They’re going to attack the Longbottoms. Soon. I should get back.”

Hermione stood before thinking, reaching for her. “Not yet,” she said, gently holding her arm. “Give yourself a breather.”

Shaking her head, Pansy pulled away. “What’s the point? It just increases the risk.”

She was right. Of course she was right, but Hermione couldn’t stand the idea of sending her back there. Every time was a struggle.

“I wish I could make you feel safe,” she said, even though it touched on that _thing_ between them that they’d both decided was not going to go anywhere. Not while they were still at war at least.

Pansy sniffed and looked away. “Just get me out,” she said. “Once I’m out...I know I’ll be stuck in safe houses until the war is over but...I _need_ to get out!”

Hermione moved closer, pulling her into a hug even though it wasn’t allowed. It crossed all those boundaries they’d told her were so important between a handler and their spy. She didn’t care. She was sick of this too. She wanted out too. She wanted to stop living in fear of the state Pansy might come to her in. She was prepared for it all, in terms of healing spells, but really, she wasn’t prepared at all.

“Just a little longer,” she whispered, pressing her face to Pansy’s neck and wishing things were different. “Just be careful, and don’t come at all if you think your cover might be at risk.”

The idea of waiting a full three hours on a meeting day and Pansy not coming at all was more than she could stand, but having Death Eaters follow her was worse.

Pansy resisted at first, but then gave in and clung to her tightly. Her breathing was stilted, and Hermione could tell she was holding back tears. She wished she wouldn’t. She wished she’d just give in. She wished there wasn’t this barrier between them.

“I want out,” Pansy whispered. “Please, Hermione. Get me out.”

Before Hermione could respond, Pansy pulled away and crossed the room to the floo. She was gone before Hermione could try to stop her.

Imagery of what could be waiting for Pansy on the other side rose to the surface of her mind, and she sat down heavily.

She wanted out too. But the war dragged on.

**End.**


End file.
